In the Fall of 1966, Hanna-Barbera
produced many superhero cartoons, capitalizing on the nation’s
Batmania. Though most of these were cancelled around 1968 due to an
outcry over violent content, their popularity lives on, thanks to
re-runs on cable networks like Boomerang. Space Ghost and Birdman,
thanks to retro-snarky series on Cartoon Network’s [Adult Swim]
block, got DVD releases of their classic episodes. It was left to
fans of their contemporary series to pine for more.

Frankenstein Jr. and The Impossibles is
one of those whined-for series (at least by me), finally brought to shiny disc by Warner Archive,
who have been turning out good, but virtually frill-less, DVDs of
popular cartoon series that weren’t considered a good enough risk
for a mass market offering. The two-disc set presents all 18 of the
original episodes, each composed of two Impossibles stories and a
Frankenstein Jr. tale (despite Frankie’s headline billing).

The Impossibles are an outlandishly
successful rock trio who are also superheroes (fancy that!),
receiving instructions via guitar-neck TV, from their boss “Big D”.
The heroes - and each name is pretty much a descriptor of their
powers – are Multi-Man, Coil Man, and Fluid Man (as they refer to
each other, even in civilian garb as “Multi”, “Coily” and
“Flooey”, secret identities do not seem to be much of a problem).
They take on villains like The Satanic Surfer, Mr. Instant, and
Cronella Crutch, most of whom seem to be masterminding schemes to steal
government secrets to sell to “an unfriendly foreign power”.

Frankenstein Jr. is a giant robot, very
much in the Gigantor
mode, who is built and controlled by two-fisted
boy scientist, Buzz Conroy. In a futuristic Civic City, they take on
more giant-sized menaces controlled by villains with such names as
Dr. Shock, Mr. Menace, Dr. Hook (but no Medicine Show) and Baron Von
Ghoul. Conveniently, Buzz always seemed to build into Frankie exactly the gadgets required to defeat these monsters.

The general tone of the stories is more
like the genial goofy comics satire of the previous year’s Atom Ant
(a giant crab, divested of its shell, looks directly to the camera
and states, “How embarrassing!” before scuttling off), rather
than the more serious pulpy space opera of Space Ghost, which can make
one wonder about the complaints of violence; until, that is, a frozen
Fluid Man is fed into an ice-cube making machine and chopped to bits,
or several of Multi-Man’s identical copies are sealed in a block of
steel. Those rather shocked me as a 9 year old, and still make me go
“Wow!” to this day.

No major remastering has been done to
the cartoons, but the elements used are flawless and, best of all,
uncluttered by “bugs” or logos for cable channels. The menus are
spare and uncluttered, offering either a “Play All” or “Episode”
option. Each episode plays as a unbroken whole, from theme music to
end credits. Though the menu lists the titles of each story in the
episode, there is not option to simply go to a specific story.

There is a (too-brief) extra with a few
Internet personalities talking – again, briefly – about the
series and the accusations of violence. Then, Warner Archive discs
are treasured for the quality presentation of previously unattainable content, not the
extras.

Me, I’m just happy to be able to
watch a childhood favorite and once more, being able to say, “Hey!
This is the one where they sing Hiddy Hiddy Hoo!”